


Threading The Needle

by taichara



Category: Gundam SEED & Cosmic Era Gundam, Gundam SEED Astray, Gundam SEED Frame Astrays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:49:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7562782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When one works under a handicap, one learns to be clever about it --</p>
            </blockquote>





	Threading The Needle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalloway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalloway/gifts).



_This will be a bother, I feel it already._

Three Socius eyed the pile of tablets and dead tree hardcopies piled up on his desk, sighed, and pulled out his chair to make himself as comfortable as could be managed. Oh, it would be bothersome, alright, but he'd make do. He always did.

No doubt anyone happening to wander into the cubicle he used as 'office' (not requiring space for much more than the desk, the chair, a water cooler, and his own self, Three didn't bother with actual office space) would think him unruffled by the offending pile, or perhaps slightly bored by it. Nothing could be further from the truth, but sometimes his resting expression of slightly-slack non-reaction was useful. Such as today, when the very loud and very aggravating second privates he'd just written dismissal orders for just might decide to come yelling and cursing into the station again.

_They're a threat to themselves and everyone else in the station as long as they stay here. Therefore, they're not staying._

Simple logic, really. If the two miscreants weren't starting brawls in the cantina they were haring off into the jungle half-cocked and poorly prepared, and Three would not stand for that. They'd get themselves killed, or their squadmates, or both -- so off they went. It would be no different now than any other time he'd sent troublemakers packing.

He _did_ get some small amusement from the confirmation dispatches every time he did it, mind you ...

_I can just imagine how the brass screw up their faces at the prospect._

_But I would never issue an order that would cause harm to any of my assignees, of course, so they agree, because even here in the middle of nowhere OMNI must run as smoothly as can be managed. And I have never failed them yet._

Something akin to pride nestled up close to the amusement; Three allowed himself the tiniest of snorts at the self-indulgence and pushed his musings away, reaching for the topmost document in the dreaded pile. Quickly he skimmed it over -- oh, good, for once his materiel requests had been filled without any qualifying clauses or uncomfortable questions. Needing to find new ways to dodge direct questions about resupply was always aggravating. 

And Command hardly needed to know that some of the requisitions were for bartering with those eccentric ZAFT insurgents as much as, or more than, with the locals --

_We work well together, and independent insurgents have been on the rise. This keeps the local villages as well as OMNI's territory safer._

_The PLANTs must not have very competent distilleries._

The second and third dispatches also concerned resupply, and could be safely set aside. The fourth detailed his requested replacement parts for the Hyperion, and was not nearly so rosy. Barely enough to cover the basics until next quarter. Well, it couldn't be helped; he'd use a different machine if it came to that. 

_What else is here, other than individualized requisition reports ... Ah._

Next was his half-completed squad rotation roster for the quarter, and of course said roster couldn't be made official until his troublemakers were replaced. His brows crimped. The rest were likely to kick in their traces if he drafted up a make-do version and then wound up changing it, and finding loopholes in his indoctrination (much as finding and exploiting loopholes had very nearly become a hobby over the years) while being shouted down by angry troopers was not even remotely entertaining.

Three tapped the offending tablet against his chin thoughtfully. What to do, what to do ...

_I'll lay it out in the common area and present the roster situation as a canvassing of preferred schedules. They can fight it out amongst themselves and save me the trouble and the potential embarrassment._

_That might well work very nicely, in fact._

Even better -- because the heat of midday was closing in mercilessly and no amount of water was making a dent in it -- drafting up the notifications for exactly that would be easy enough, _and_ would take just enough time to justify putting off the remainder of the pile for just a little while longer.

It was justified prioritization of time and resources, after all.

He did so enjoy picking out new loopholes.


End file.
